


Only Five Minutes

by Heichou Neko (loveybwtm)



Series: Original Short Stories/Poetry [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 23:28:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13623735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveybwtm/pseuds/Heichou%20Neko
Summary: I forgot what it was like to be alone with your thoughts. To be submerged in the loneliness of a dark room, music blaring, and no one to talk to. I forgot just how terrifying the night is without someone to distract you from your mind and your racing thoughts. Every sound you hear becomes amplified, pushing paranoia into your mind. The house creaks, and you think you hear someone opening a door. Someone drives past, and you think they stop at your house. Your internet goes out for a split moment, and your mind supplies images of your home being bombed. You only think of the worst of every little thing, until you just huddle up under your sheets and wait for someone to talk to you. You wait for the sun to rise. You wait for the thoughts in your head to be drowned out by something.





	Only Five Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time posting some original work, so please let me know what you think! :)

I forgot what it was like to be alone with your thoughts. To be submerged in the loneliness of a dark room, music blaring, and no one to talk to. I forgot just how terrifying the night is without someone to distract you from your mind and your racing thoughts. Every sound you hear becomes amplified, pushing paranoia into your mind. The house creaks, and you think you hear someone opening a door. Someone drives past, and you think they stop at your house. Your internet goes out for a split moment, and your mind supplies images of your home being bombed. You only think of the worst of every little thing, until you just huddle up under your sheets and wait for someone to talk to you. You wait for the sun to rise. You wait for the thoughts in your head to be drowned out by something.

 

  
So you wait, in the silence of your bedroom. Your lights off, your music silent, your computer light dim. You wait. You stare at the computer with blank eyes, your ears listening to anything and everything it can pick up, hoping that your mind won't make you go insane by the time someone recognizes your need to be distracted or the sun rises.

 

 

Yet, it doesn't come. You sit in your room for what feels like centuries, your hands having begun shaking hours ago whilst shivers ride up and down your spine, your phone and computer silent. The sun hasn’t risen.

 

  
You swivel the mouse, re-awakening the computer to stare dreadfully at the time. Five minutes. It's only been five minutes since you checked, yet you could have sworn it had been longer. You hold back a shaky breath as you pull your legs up into your desk chair, staring at the blue skype symbol and waiting for the little orange bubble, telling you that you have a message. It never comes.

 

  
You think you’re about to be swallowed by your fears, your mind supplying so many different things that nothing can stop the thoughts and all you know is that something must be wrong with you. What else could it be? Why else would no one want to talk to someone like you, you fat ass piece of shit? No one would ever see you as a friend, you’re as worthless as a broken charging wire. Used until you’re not useful even more, except you never were useful in the first place and oh god you’re rambling inside of your own mind, and what if they are mad at you about something you said in a joking manner and what if-

 

  
You swiel the mouse again, tears welling in your eyes as you stare at the time. Only three minutes. Three minutes since you last checked. You wanna stand up, wanna go over to someone’s house, go out in the living room, something. Yet you stay put, your paranoia wrapping its hands tightly against your fragile throat and stringing every little piece of sense you had out of you. You’re nothing more than a bag of worry, regret, sadness, loneliness. There is nothing to stop you from letting out a tiny gasp and beginning to shake more.

 

  
You count back the hours in your head, thinking your meds should have kicked in by now. They should have. Yet all you feel are those hands at your throat, all you hear are the sounds of the world raining down on you, all you taste is the bitterness of regret trying to pour its way out of your mouth, and yet you swallow them back to not be a bother. You don’t want anyone to see how needy you are, or call you attention seeking. Cause you aren’t. You just need someone to take these thoughts out of your head and replace them with the happiness and laughter that everyone else can seem to cause with just the slightest thought, yet you’re there drowning in all these things and-

 

  
Once more, you check the time, a small sob leaving your lips as you shrink back into your chair. Only five minutes since you last checked. Only five minutes.


End file.
